By Reading This, You Are Stating That You Are 18 Years Of Age. If You Are Under The Age Of 18, It Is Necessary To Exit This Site.
His American Beauty
Nilette had hit a wall. She thought she was onto something when it came to neutralizing the acidic quality in phenol. To test her theory, she’d brought a pack of dried animal skins and a dropper. The moment the chemical touched the brittle scales of a snake, it ate straight through and even left a black mark on the table.
No matter. Back to the drawing board.
Several hours must have passed since she’d stepped into the cellar. She was getting hungry. Thacker was also starting to kick around. He didn’t like to be cooped up in her pocket for long stretches of time.
Putting down her supplies, she took a step back and looked at her work station. She couldn’t get too far into her own head about the expectations put on her, and the environment in which she had the greatest chance of coming up with a solution. With bodies in crates at the back of the cellar and mold caked onto the walls, she certainly wasn’t in St Paul’s.
She shook her head. To do this colossal task, she couldn’t dwell on things that would never change. She had her brain and the necessary equipment. Nothing else mattered, at the end of the day. Fifty years from now, when people were still referencing the progress that she had made, she wouldn’t remember this clammy, little space below the operating theatre, or the terrifying loneliness that could set in when she took those minute-long breaks and looked around, just to remember that the only people down here with her were corpses.
She had to get out. This much darkness wasn’t good for a person’s head.
Picking up her hat, she pulled it snug over her head and slipped on her gloves. She lifted herself out of the cellar and got to her feet. Her breath flashed before her. Night had fallen over London. A few men passing by shot her a number of odd looks before carrying on with their business.
Her entire body shook all over. Teeth chattered. How could it be so cold? How long had she been underground? Looking worriedly around herself, she suddenly had the disorienting feeling that she was lost. She knew how to get to Phoenix and Marley’s house. Take a hundred paces to the right, then turn when she saw the house with the white fence. After that, she’d just go the carriage house at the corner of the street and request a hackney to take her the rest of the way. She’d done this several times.
But now, it seemed so hard.
Frost gleamed off the street. Everything was iced over, and people bustled all around her, trying to keep out of the weather.
Tears lit up her eyes. Unsure why she was so nervous, she brushed away the water rolling down her cheeks. Her lips were starting to sting. And her stomach growled with a ferocity that clued her in to the fact that she had been working for much longer than she thought.
To her disbelief, even more so than just wanting Phoenix to appear like magic and escort her home, she wanted Enoch. His arms around her, enfolding her into his big, warm body. She hadn’t given herself time to stew over the alarming turn of events that happened between them. Immediately after he left, she’d run off to London for an escape. At the moment, all she could think about was how nice it would be to nuzzle her face into his chest and feel his breath on the top of her head.
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